


took the yoke of heaven upon himself

by smallredboy



Series: your people shall be my people and your God my God [1]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Autistic Greg House, Canon Disabled Character, Character Development, Chronic Pain, Conversion to Judaism, Crisis of Faith, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Greg House and James Wilson Being in Love, M/M, Mikveh, Out of Character Greg House (but like on purpose), Religious Discussion, Season 6-ish, Seder Pesach | Passover Seder (Judaism), Shabbat | Sabbath | Sabt, Various Jewish Holidays, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: House's mission to out-Jewish Wilson out of pettiness backfires when he genuinely connects with his best friend's culture and faith.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: your people shall be my people and your God my God [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067735
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	took the yoke of heaven upon himself

**Author's Note:**

> bro what if my 4th longest fic was about gregory house converting to judaism? would that be fucked up or what?
> 
> title is from a quote from the midrash tanhuma.
> 
> anyway, i am a prospective jewish convert and this is mostly shameless self-projection. this was sensitivity read by a friend who was born jewish, and another one who is in the process of converting. many things in this were inspired by or taken from parts of _choosing a jewish life_ by anita diamant. house's rabbi was inspired by my converting friend's rabbi, who i've seen through zoom services and who i like very much. 
> 
> still, if you are jewish and have critcisism about some part of this fic, _please_ point it out to me! i'll change it gladly.
> 
> enjoy!

It starts, as most things do with House, as a bit of a joke.

Wilson is trying to be more active in the very small Jewish community of Princeton, and thus has started attending Shabbat services and most holidays. House doesn't mind, of course— the Jewish people around him are quite nice and all his baggage around religion is almost exclusively settled around Christianity— but he can't shake the feeling of being _excluded_. Which is ridiculous, considering he's a gentile, of course he's being excluded.

But he likes to bother Wilson, and that's what he does best. So he decides to go out to try and out-Jewish his best friend, as it were. Maybe there'd be something fun there, a bone to pick with the rabbi— he's informed himself about the major religions around the world, read through religious texts and picked them apart until he didn't find anything worthwhile there. He hasn't done so with the Talmud,, mostly because his hobby of reading through religious texts was starting to get boring to him after he finished reading the Quran.

There are two synagogues in Princeton; one Conservative and the other Reconstructionist. If he had to guess, Wilson is going to the Conservative one (the same one Taub goes to, albeit only during the High Holidays), so he should be going to the Reconstructionist one, just in case. If Wilson came across him just as he was trying to familiarize himself all his plans would come crumbling down, and he didn't want that.

An email to the administration is all he needs, so they're not surprised by his presence. He introduces himself, and of course, the rabbi replies with delight and surprise— a long-winded email about how they have a prayer book and other such things to familiarize himself with their beliefs.

Sure, he'll familiarize himself with it, but it's not like he's going to like it. At least that's what he thinks until Friday night rolls around and he heads out to the synagogue. The walk is short and he needs to exercise his leg muscles, anyway, so it's not that big of a deal, even though it does throb a little by when he gets there. He pops two of his pills before walking in— sure, everyone knows he's that _pill-popping doctor_ , but it feels weird to pop pills in front of everyone at a religious place. He definitely would do it at a church, though, but not here. He'd like to make an impression that's at least a little bit good. He looks at the tray at the entrance and puts one of the kippahs on.

The rabbi sees him, as he's one of the first few people to come in.

"Dr. House!" He calls out. He must be a bit younger than House, in his early forties or so, balding and with a bright smile that almost puts House at ease. "Of all people to come to our synagogue, I never would've expected you."

House hums. "I’m sure," he says. "I don't know how far the word of my atheism goes, but..." He huffs. "I am sure it is not hard to guess where my religious affiliations lay."

"Well, sure," the rabbi says. Seth, his name is, if House isn't mistaken. "I am quite curious about why you are interested in attending services here, Dr. House, if you do not mind me asking."

House smiles at him smugly. "Let's keep it a mystery for now, no?"

Rabbi Seth nods at him understandingly. "I love a mystery. Services will start soon. Feel free to talk with other people here, or get comfortable. We try to keep things comfortable for everyone. I know of your use of pain medication, and I don't think anyone will mind if you take them here if you feel the need. Also, there is no problem if you can’t stand up for prayer, I imagine it’d be rather painful for you. Don’t feel pressured to stand."

House nods at him. "Thank you," he says. The rabbi leaves back to his place, and House finds himself at odds with it all. It's a pretty place— a lot smaller than your average church, sure, and a lot less decorated; but it's homely. He likes it. There's about twenty people or so milling around, having their own conversations. Luckily it’s no one he knows. He gets comfortable in one of the chairs.

He doesn't know how to explain what it feels like to be in a Shabbat service. At first, when he got there, he thought it'd be just another religious service that'd be a complete snooze fest, like every mass he was forced to go to through his childhood and adolescence, his father tugging at him, forcing him to stand up, to kneel for every prayer that requested it.

There are many things that are different. The songs, of course, are different— he knows a bit of Hebrew, so he can read Israeli medical journals, but that casual knowledge doesn't compare to the feeling of hearing people sing, gleefully, in that old, old language. Some words he recognizes, most of them he doesn't. He looks down at the book he was given, reads the meanings sometimes, but it feels more _strong_ to not know what they are saying. He's not sure why.

Something else that is different — Rabbi Seth smiles so wide, and he seems so full of _life_. Priests are so tired all the time, but he seems to thrive in this environment. He says the prayers and sings the songs and bounces his leg along to most of it; he speaks about the weekly section of the Torah and he summarizes it with a certain casual air, almost joking. It's strange. It feels _wrong_ , almost. But it isn't.

House expected to be bored at the end, almost yawning, but he isn't. As services end people talk, some of them come toward him and he can't help but try to be friendly. It comes off forced, like pulling teeth, but he still tries to not make everyone in the temple hate him within ten minutes of meeting him.

"Will you be coming here again, Dr. House?" Rabbi Seth asks afterward, tilting his head.

He swallows, and suddenly he has to give an answer to his conflicting feelings about this entire thing. It started as a joke, as something he could do to surprise Wilson— _hey Wilson, you won't_ guess _what I did on Friday evening!_ — but now it's not so much that. It feels almost interesting, to learn about the Jewish people, their beliefs. Religion as a whole has always been interesting to him, even if just to mock it. But he doesn't find much mockery to be had about all this.

"I might," he says. It's honest. He hates that it is.

After he goes back home, he finds himself out of his usual routine of looking through webpages uselessly or reading boring books to pass the time before he has to go to bed. All he finds in himself is the need to Google information about Judaism. Well, the original plan was to out-Jewish Wilson, he tries to tell himself— maybe that way he'll learn something new, something that Wilson doesn't know, and he can try and show off.

All he finds in every thing he learns, though, is something that calls to him uncomfortably. He doesn't understand it, really, why the quotes in the pages of his search call to him. Why there's something that calls to him in their long history as a people, the way they've still tried their hardest to thrive, made community out of every place they've found themselves in. Like dandelions out of concrete. Before he knows it, he has put ten different books in his Amazon shopping cart and is going to the checkout process, taking out his credit card.

He doesn't know what's come over him. Should he tell Wilson about this? Tell Cuddy about this? No. He doesn't know what to do, but he should keep it secret until his entire self isn't being reshaped by one nice rabbi and the sound of Hebrew being sung.

He's been best friends with a Jewish man for nearly twenty years. He's never cared much about his friend's religious affiliations— he would disappear off the face of Earth for two seperate days around September or October; Wilson would explain that it was the high holidays. Cuddy didn't disappear during those days, probably because of her being the Dean of Medicine and thus not being able to be as observant as she would like. She does give paid time off to people during religious holidays away from the Christian ones, though, which House is sure isn't the case in most other establishments.

When the books get to his place two days later— _Choosing Judaism_ , _Living a Jewish Life_ and other titles among them— he doesn't wait to dive in. He's very good at hyperfixating, something he talked about with Nolan after he got discharged, about being autistic and how he’’ll obsess over a topic. Of course, that topic usually ends up being medicine, his patients or stuff like that— but right now it's squarely set on Judaism, on these words written in these pages, telling of stories and rituals and traditions that have milennia tothem.

It becomes a bit of an obsession on his part, as things tend to do for him. He doesn't pull away from the first book until his leg reminds him that it's there and that it fucking hurts. He pops a couple of pills and goes right back into reading as soon as the pain goes away, for the most part.

He tries to be secretive about it. Of course he does. It feels shameful, just a little bit, to try and draw attention to this. He's been a militant atheist for decades, as soon as he got away from his parents— he's not supposed to be fascinated with a religion beyond mockery. He's not supposed to watch videos explaining Jewish holidays with a degree of admiration. He doesn't know what's come over him.

It's a phase, maybe. It's one of his ridiculous obsessions, just this time with something uncommon for his typical interests. It's fine. It'll pass, just like all the ones that weren't medicine passed too.

* * *

It doesn't pass, in fact.

He goes to Shabbat services every Friday evening, dutifully; there’s Saturday morning services every other week, but he can’t fit them into his schedule, so he doesn’t go to them. It's by the two month mark that he finally dares ask Rabbi Seth about conversion.

"Rabbi Seth," he says, almost embarrassed, after services. "Do you— do you do the asking thrice thing?"

Rabbi Seth looks up from his seat and smiles at him. "Usually, yes, but considering you have been coming to services for two months now, I feel like it'd be rather counterintuitive to do so."

House swallows around the lump in his throat. "Alright," he says. "so, what is the process here? I've read about it, of course, but— do we have classes or something—"

"Yes, there are classes," he says. "Torah studies, a few lessons of Hebrew—"

"I already know a bit of Hebrew," he interrupts. "Not— well, I learned it to read Israeli medical journals. But now I suppose it's useful in a different way."

Rabbi Seth beams at him. "Of course! That is very good. I’ll give you the timetables we have for classes. I understand you're a busy man, with your job as a diagnostician and whatnot, so feel free to take only a few of the classes. We try to spread them throughout the week."

House nods. "How many conversion students are there?"

"There are five, not counting you," he says. "They are all very nice people. Most of them a bit younger than you, though. But there _is_ a man about your age."

He nods. "Alright," he says. "Thank you."

He gets the timetable, looks over it, and considers the hours. He may come in on Saturday afternoon, but that's usually spent doing something or other with Wilson, and he doesn't know what excuse to create. It's not like he has a personal life, it's not like Wilson can't see right through him. But telling his best friend about all this feels _wrong_.

He's somehow managed to keep it secret for two months, now. Spent far too many hours researching the Jewish people and the Jewish faith. _Wrestling with God_ , they talk about it often, that concept he's not been familiar with until he came in contact with all of this. His entire life he has spent wrestling with the concept of God. Maybe if God is real, he can wrestle with Him too.

Of course, he can't keep things secret forever.

The next week, he's planning to leave for the Torah study session when Wilson comes into his apartment. There are other people attending besides the convert students, as Rabbi Seth had told him, so that’d be interesting.

"House," he says as he opens the door with that key he gave him three years ago. "Weren't we supposed to watch _Real Housewives_ today?"

He thinks about not going, and watching Jacqueline's marriage woes instead. It stings. He doesn't want to fail to follow through with his very first Torah study class. For some strange reason, he doesn't want Rabbi Seth to be disappointed in him.

"Uh, yeah, we _were_ ," he says, watching him walk in. "But we _aren't_."

Wilson blinks at him owlishly. It's almost a ritual of theirs by now, to watch horrible reality TV and spend time together that way, unwinding from the stressors of the week. House wonders if Wilson went to Shabbat services yesterday, or this morning. He wonders if he had to make awkward eye contact with Taub or Cuddy there. Well, with Taub, rather— with Cuddy it'd be eager chitchat.

(God, he's glad he chose the Reconstructionist synagogue. Otherwise he would've most definitely bumped into one of them, and been asked way too many questions he didn't feel ready to answer.)

"Why not?" he asks.

"Well, I've got things to do." He huffs. "You can steal off my cable and watch it here, if you'd like."

Wilson tilts his head. "Since _when_ do you have things to do on Saturday afternoons?"

"Ouch," he says. "You think I don't have a life outside of you? You're not the center of the universe, James."

"I know I'm not!" he exclaims. "But you're— this is our _thing_ , it has been for years now! Where are you going?"

"What, jealous?"

" _House_ ," Wilson says, in that stupid tone when he knows that House is deflecting. "What are you going to do?"

"You wouldn’t believe it," he replies. He makes no move to leave. He knows Wilson wouldn't hold him up or follow him to where he's going; he's too _nice_ for that. "Or you'll think it's a joke. Either way, I'd much rather wait about a year to tell you." His long-term plan is to either tell Wilson when it'd be funny to tell him, or invite him to the mikvah ceremony, which would also be funny. But he doesn't seem to be having luck in this aspect.

Wilson furrows his brows. "Why a year? House, I don't understand—"

Fuck it. Fuck his long-term plans. Wilson is not letting this go, and it'll eat at him, and he'll eventually have to get it out and tell him. What better time than now? In a year, maybe. But he's not getting that option.

"You know how there's only two synagogues here in Princeton?"

He looks at him. "Are you changing the topic—?"

"No. This is related. Pay attention. You know how there's only two synagogues here in Princeton?"

Wilson groans. "Sure, yes. I do know about that."

"Well, I took a guess and assumed all the Jewish doctors in the hospital go to the Conservative one."

He tilts his head. "Well, yes, I've seen Cuddy and Taub around there. What does that have to do with anything—?"

House relishes for a second at the fact he was right. He swallows and looks around. "Well, two months ago you told Cuddy you wanted to go to synagogue more often, reconnect after not doing much religiously for so long."

"You were eavesdropping?" he exclaims.

"Sure was." He sighs. "That's not the important part. The important part is that I decided to out-Jewish you, if you will, to find something out that you didn't. But I didn't want you to find out, and I guessed that the other synagogue would be the place to go. So I went to the Reconstructionist one, it's only a few blocks down from here."

Wilson blinks at him. The confusion in his face is palpable. "Well, yeah, that was two months ago," he says. "I'm sure you got bored after one Shabbat service, got tired of them talking about Moses and about God or—"

"No," House interrupts. "Wilson, the important part is that I _liked_ it."

"Oh," Wilson says. He takes a second to process this information and then says, "What?"

"I liked it," he repeats slowly, like explaining something to a child.

"You _enjoyed_ services?"

"They're—" He sighs and drags his hand down his face. "I don't know how to explain it. They are so different from Christian mass, Wilson. It's an entirely new world. Almost... Well, I got hyperfixated afterward. Impulse bought ten books about Judaism on Amazon."

Wilson almost looks like he's expecting him to end this with a punchline, like _hah, you believed I'd ever become religious? Psych!_ But there's no punchline, which he'll realize sooner or later. "You did?" he asks, sounding amused.

"Yeah," he replies. "And I've been going to services for two months now." There is a long pause, and he wonders if he _has_ to say it. If he can just hide it until it explodes in his face, until he gets to the mikveh. It'd be nice, to not have to have this talk with Wilson. To not have to bare his soul about how he's questioned everything about his understanding of what faith and religion is in the last two months. "Last week, I approached the rabbi — Rabbi Seth Becker, you can look him up — about conversion."

Wilson stares at him. He avoids eye contact, instead staring at the floor. He usually can manage to look at people in the eye, but not right now. It seems like too much, to look Wilson in the eye when he's telling him he wants to join his people after years of mocking the mere concept of religion. It feels wrong.

"House," he says, softly. Gentle; it feels like being cradled, which is not necessarily a bad thing. "If you're not pulling my hair here, which a part of me thinks you are, but otherwise you'd be looking me dead in the eye so I think you may be serious..." He swallows. "I'm very happy for you, House. I'm glad you found a way to connect with the concept of faith, and I could go to this synagogue with you, if you'd like."

House smiles at him, and then goes straight for deflection. "They'd think we're married if we do," he drawls.

He gives him a shrug in response. "Well, now we won't have to deal with the hurdles of interfaith marriage."

Wilson blushes; that's what House notices when he finally manages to look into his general direction.

"Sure won't have to," Wilson says, sounding a bit nervous. "But, uh. Yeah. So you were doing something for your studies today, instead of watching _Real Housewives_...? I'm sorry I stopped you from going and forced you to tell me, then..."

"It's fine," he says. "i still have just about enough to get there on time. It's the Torah study section of it. Wanna come with?"

Wilson smiles at him, bright, like it's finally dawned on him that he is one hundred percent serious about all this. "Sure," he says.

* * *

Some notable moments from House's year before the mikveh would include, in no particular order:

1\. House talking to Rabbi Seth about kosher, explaining that his sensory issues make him quite the picky eater. He's spent weeks subsisting on cheese sandwiches, and while he thinks he can get rid of mixing meat and dairy, he's unsure about everything else.

"Kosher isn't needed," Rabbi Seth told him, with a small smile. "Of course, a lot of people put a lot of importance in the rules HaShem gave us, those dietary laws, but if they would interfere with your quality of life then I don't believe you have to follow them perfectly. You're perfectly okay as it is, Greg."

Coming home with Wilson at his side, he ate his last cheese-and-beef sandwich, while Wilson watched him. He didn't follow kosher strictly either, as he had explained to him years before— he kept most of the laws, but seafood was just too damn good to pass up simply because it didn't have gills and scales.

2\. Spending Yom Kippur at work. Wilson disappeared off the face of Earth, of course, as did Taub; they got paid time off for the holidays, but to leave during Jewish holidays would involve explaining to Cuddy what was happening with his life and his faith, which he couldn't do just yet without feeling like he needed to take something to calm down, drowning in anxiety.

He wanted to fast, really. And he tried to, but by the sixteen hour mark he got such a strong spike of leg pain that he cursed everything and went to get something to eat along with taking his medication. He wasn't an addict anymore, sure, detox and everything, but he still needed to eat along with his medication, or it would leave him with a very sore stomach. Still, he made an effort to focus on what Yom Kippur meant— forgiveness and harshness, trying to be better as God chose one's fate for the new year.

It was an overwhelming notion, really, to be judged. He never liked the idea of being judged, back when he was attending mass, forced along by his parents. Hell and Heaven and he'd end up in one or the other. He had, after years, gotten used to the notion that he'd end up in Hell, in case God was real and his atheism a mistake. But now he's not an atheist anymore (leaning more on the agnostic theist side of things) and Hell doesn't even exist there, in the Jewish vision of the afterlife. He's okay. He won't burn in flames forever, punished for every one of his mistakes.

But he still had to be a better person. Try to, at least.

Two days later, Cuddy tried to pry into his life, asking why is it that he's not... _harassing_ her so much any more. He offered her a smile and an honest apology, that he was an asshole to her for so many years and that he understood any hostility she had toward him. Wilson told him that she had called him afterward, asking him if House had relapsed, because of his _wildly un-House-like behavior_.

That was fun. He liked surprising people because he was trying to be better. He liked trying to be better. He would keep trying, of course.

3\. Telling Nolan that he was converting.

He had to stop himself from making dumb jokes, from deflecting, from under-explaining. He gave it to him, concise and yet lengthy, every reason why he was going through with this.

Every time he told someone— this was only the second time, but still— he expected some sort of harsh judgment, mentions of past sins of _not believing_. That never happened, though. They always smiled and congratulated him.

Nolan told him that he wished him well in his conversion; that if it didn't work out for him, that it wasn't a big deal, either. What was important was that he was opening himself up to new experiences.

That was a change. House hadn't always been good with change, but ever since he landed in the psych ward he had been all about it.

4\. Celebrating Shabbat with Wilson for the first time, the week after he told him everything. The candles and the food, having managed to make some Challah for the two of them. It felt like something married couples did together; like he was supposed to be kissing him right then. So he did. He kissed him, and Wilson replied in kind.

"Well," Wilson said, slightly breathless, glowing with a smile he hadn't ever seen before, "there _will_ be no hurdles with interfaith marriage."

The idea made him giddy. He was going to be Wilson's fourth spouse— two of them had been gentiles. He wasn't going to turn the balance in their favor. He was going to be Jewish, and he was going to have a big, gay Jewish wedding someday. The mere thought made him feel lighter, like he weighed nothing. Like he was floating.

5\. Spending Tu BiShvat with Wilson.

"You know, I never really cared about this one," Wilson said while walking down the park. They lived together now, in an apartment, so they couldn't really plant something in their property, but they could still look at nature, admire it for what it was— ever changing and beautiful. "Trees are... you know, they're just trees."

House laughed softly. "Yeah, they're just trees. Quite old." He hummed. "The oldest clonal tree colony is at least eighty thousand years old. It has seen every single part of Jewish history. It's in Utah, if I remember correctly."

"It has seen a lot of things," Wilson said. He leaned in to kiss him on the lips. "We could go and make sure it sees us kiss, as well." He laughed.

"We could," he said. "Maybe next Tu BiShvat?"

"Maybe."

The idea made him giddy all over. Making new memories, with the trees, with everything in nature. He had never been a fan of nature, apart from biology and the human body, but he could recognize in it a lot of the things he admired in those two.

6\. Sukkot with Wilson.

It was another tradition Wilson hadn't done in years, but he fondly remembered helping his parents build up the sukkah. And they did so too, as much as their options were limited; they had managed to get a little garden area at the apartment complex to build it in; Wilson took the brunt of the work, of course, but House tried his hand at it as well. Pine branches hung over as the roof.

He was still not ready to tell Cuddy about his conversion; Wilson had made excuses as to why he wasn't going to the feast she had done. It was okay, though, as long as House got to kiss him. Everything was okay if he had him by his side, helping him throughout the path of Jewishness.

7\. There was a point where House started to say _us_ instead of _them_. He went to the barber after much bickering from Wilson about how he needed to get his hair cut, and when the barber asked about his boyfriend and his religion, House replied without a second thought _oh, we're Jewish_. It felt right in his mouth in a way it hadn't ever before. Sometimes he slipped up and said _them_ , still, but most of the time saying _we_ came naturally, like simply a part of his identity.

He was getting used to the change. His entire self was changing with it all, and he was ready for that.

8\. Taub growing suspicious.

It was funny, really, how they slowly started becoming public about them being together but not about House's conversion. If they told those events together, people would probably think that he was converting for Wilson. As if Wilson was some high-strung Jewish man, who wanted to impress his parents by taking in a goyische man and making him into one of them. But matter of fact was that they were _just friends_ before he started converting.

He wanted to talk about that, at their hypothetical wedding. How converting finally made them stop being cowards and admit their genuine love and affection for one another. Beyond deflections and lazy jokes and everyone else's suspicions. How spending Shabbat together one night, watching the candles, made House feel like being brave.

After attending a Jewish patient— and having a much more sensitive understanding of it than before, even if he kept upholding _pikuach nefesh_ , leading him to do a few things that went against the patient's personal beliefs— Taub was growing a little suspicious. Like he _knew_ there was a 'nefarious' motive as to why House knew all these things.

"Where did you get all this knowledge of Judaism from?" he asked, as casually as possible.

"I'm dating a Jewish man, Taub," House replieddismissively, in his typical fashion, "how could I date one without knowing anything about the people of the book?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, you could just ignore his ethnic background. It's not like Wilson is the most observant Jew out there, anyway."

"Oh, he's been more observant lately."

Taub looked at him. "Is he?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Not like you would know, you only go to services for the high holidays." A pause. "Or so I'm told."

Taub groaned and left his office. Well, crisis solved. He hadn't let it slip.

9\. "I'd like to invite my two Jewish coworkers to the mikveh," House told Rabbi Seth.

Rabbi Seth turned to look at him. "Have you told them about your conversion?"

He gave him a wide grin. "No, I have not."

He sighed. "Usually I would tell you to tell them beforehand, but I know you will not budge, so I won't bother." He hummed. "You can invite them."

"Sweet," he said. It was all going according to plan. He had already visited the mikveh, and it was rather dull, all things considered, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the water, and the feeling of it as he immersed.

He hadn't been able to swim for years. He missed it. It wasn't like he was going to swim there, but he would dip into the water, immerse himself there, for a few moments at a time. A rebirth, something that his pain would not interfere with, no matter what.

10\. The days before the finishing touch of his conversion were nothing short of anxiety-fueled. He was going to be judged by three Rabbis— they had been taken from other places in Mercer County, so it's not like his significant other's rabbi will come knocking down the door, recognize him, and call him a liar, or something.

"What if they say no?" he asked, fretting as he looked through the clothes he was going to wear.

"The cases of them saying no are extremely rare, House," Wilson said, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

"Well, that's not a _zero_ chance, James," he snarked. He sighed and put his face in his hands. "Sorry. I am just... stressed out."

"It'll be over with soon enough," he replied. "And you'll be my Jewish partner. You'll be Jewish."

"Yeah, and Cuddy and Taub will see." He laughed softly. "I'm excited."

"I'm excited as well, House. I am very excited."

"Kind of scared about the dick part, though, not going to lie."

"I think everyone is scared about the dick part," Wilson said, in a manner that was nothing short of soothing. "It'll be over before you realize. It's not like they're circumcising you."

"Yeah, well now I have something to thank my mom for," he said, rolling his eyes a little. They both laughed, and he pulled Wilson into a soft kiss.

He was going to be Jewish in three days. He had sent Taub and Cuddy texts saying to meet him at an address at that day and time, completely neglecting to specify what for.

* * *

"Why on Earth did you invite us to a mikveh, House?" Cuddy asks.

House grins at her, wide and toothy, and gives that same smile to Taub. "Why don't you wait and find out?"

He walks in, Wilson at his side, and he fiddles with his hands nervously as the three rabbis are there. Wilson squeezes his shoulder.

"Wait," Taub whispers. "No fucking way."

"Language," Rabbi Seth says, although it's lacking in any bite.

"Sorry." He swallows. "We'll, uh... I assume this is a beth din, so me and Cuddy will get going."

Cuddy stares at him, and then at the rabbis, and then at House. "There is no way—"

"It is," Wilson says. "Please, leave; Lisa, Taub. You'll see for yourself."

The bet din goes by fast, almost overwhelming him with the fact they _accepted_ him. They smile at him, and they say that he is ready, that he is ready to become a Jew, and allow him into the next part of it all— the _hatafat dam brit_. The drawing of blood. He pops one of his meds before walking in, smiling at the mohel, and getting in position.

"Are you sure you don't want a numbing cream?" the mohelasks.

"I have a muscle missing from my leg," he says, as much as he's incredibly nervous at this part. "Getting blood drawn from my dick won't be the end of the world."

The mohel laughs heartily and leans in, pricking at the part of the skin where his foreskin used to be. House lets out a groan, knowing it'd hurt for only one second before he pulls away. It's over as soon as it began, the mohel pressing a cotton swab against the drop of blood so he can go show the bet din.

"Okay," Rabbi Seth says. "You are ready." He leans in and hugs him. "Go to the bathroom, take a bath, undress. You know the process."

"Sure," House says. He heads toward the bathroom, and even though there's a couple walls between them, he can hear Wilson talk to Cuddy and Taub about this new development. They must be confused, surely, but he hopes they're happy for him.

He undresses, fills the tub, gets in the water and makes a long job out of cleaning himself up. He thinks about this decision, about how he's so glad that a year ago, Wilson decided to be more involved in his culture, and how his own innately petty nature made him check out the other synagogue in town. If Wilson hadn't done that, he wouldn't be here now. He would've never realized what being Jewish really means, all the traditions and rituals that were hidden right in front of his eyes. How he spent a lifetime hating a God he didn't believe existed, and now he's come to begrudging terms with his possible existence. Being Jewish is about wrestling with Them, anyway— it’s not like he’s doing anything wrong by doubting.

After a while, he gets out of the tub, dries himself off and wraps a large towel around himself. He has no shame to be had about the nudity part of this entire thing— except for, well, his leg. But it's okay. It'll be fine. Only Rabbi Seth and Wilson will see it; it's not like Wilson hasn't seen it a hundred times before, and it's not like it'll be the first time Rabbi Seth has seen something of the sort. Or at least so he hopes.

But he's exposing himself to God. Every part of him should be immersed into the water.

"Do tell us if your leg starts to hurt. That is something we've considered," Rabbi Seth says.

"Of course," he says, smiling. He leaves the towel by the water and goes down, step after step. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. He starts to feel the water, as it goes up to about his neck. The atmosphere of the mikveh is as nonspiritual as it gets, looking more like a hot tub than anything else— but it's okay. He knows he'll find enough spirituality in the immersion.

The questions are routine, his answers sure for every one.

"If you are blessed with children, do you promise to rear them as Jews?" That is the last question.

The question makes him feel funny. He thinks about adopting kids with Wilson (or getting a surrogate mother), having little Jewish kids running around. The idea makes him feel strangely warm. He tries to ignore it.

"Yes, I promise," he breathes out.

"You may submerge fully."

He ducks his head under the water, every strand of his (thinning) hair submerged. He slowly lifts his feet off the floor, takes his hand away from his sides. It's like he's in a fetal position, sort of; his eyes lidded, his mouth open slightly. He opens his hands, spreads his toes. The water touches every part of him, turns him anew.

He emerges. He feels like he's botching the pronunciation, even after a year of learning and more years knowing a bit of Hebrew, but he still recites the blessing.

He immerses himself again, once, twice. The water takes him in, makes him into something brand new. It's a rebirth, a pause, pushed away from everything before this moment. He comes up for a third time and recites the _shehehiyanu_ , the blessing of thanksgiving. It feels like he's being hugged by the stagnant water, like he's drowning in it, in that sensation of being reborn.

"With pure waters will I purify you," Rabbi Seth starts, with that one passage from Ezekiel— "and you will be pure. A new heart will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you. I will cause you to follow My teachings, and you shall keep My statutes. You shall be My people and I will be your God."

A new spirit has been put into him. He smiles and gets out of the mikvah.

"Welcome, brother!" Rabbi Seth exclaims with a grin so wide it makes him grin just as widely. "Mazel tov!"

"Mazel tov!" Wilson calls out, and he can hear the beth din do so, too, even as they're not looking at him, for something or other of modesty.

He goes back to dress himself, and he's a little dizzy with how happy he is. He's Jewish.

Finally, Rabbi Seth and the bet din join him, along with Cuddy and Taub.

"Wilson explained to me," Cuddy tells him, leaning in to hug him. "I didn't expect this at _all_ , but mazel tov, House."

"Yeah," Taub agrees. "Never did I expect _you_ to convert, of all people, but still— mazel tov!"

House smiles. "Thank you."

"Wait, is that why you apologized to me after Yom Kippur?"

"Yep," he says, popping the p. "I thought I should, you know, try to be a better person for the new year."

Cuddy laughs and elbows him, before they turn back to the beth din.

The conversion documents are signed, and he looks at them for one long moment as it dawns on him that he's finally Jewish. He's Jewish, just like Wilson, just like Cuddy, just like Taub.

He wonders how he'll break the news onto everyone else. Well, he'll find a nice and funny way of doing so. For the moment all he has to worry about is going to Shabbat services in two days with Wilson.

For now, that's all that matters.

* * *

"Can't I crash your Seder as Elijah?" House asks, groaning softly as he trudges along to Wilson's place, Wilson at his side.

"You could've done that back when you were a gentile," Wilson replies. "But now you're actually supposed to participate, as my fiancé, and whatnot."

House sticks his tongue out at him. Wilson proposing to him was a quiet affair, done during Sukkot, two years after his conversion. He's still not fully comfortable there, feeling like he'll never be quite Jewish enough, but matter of fact is that every person who has gone through this process feels just like he does about it. So it'll be fine. One day he won't doubt himself, feel like he's being ridiculous, a farce.

One day being called up with his Hebrew name— _Jacob bat Abraham v'Sarah_ will not feel like he has a thousand signs toward him, calling him out for the crime of not being Jewish. It's not like the synagogue has ever been anything but welcoming, the other conversion students congratulating him, one of them even asking him to come to his own mikvah immersion.

He's getting married to Wilson, one of these days. They'll have a Jewish wedding.

He goes back to those questions he got asked at the immersion. Jewish children. The words echo around his head, make him even more nervous than before. He clutches at his cane tightly, swallows.

"Wilson," he says quietly, almost embarrassed. "What do you think about having children?"

Wilson turns to look at him, hand ghosting over the handle of Cuddy's door. The mezuzah is on the right, slanted. House kisses his fingers and then touches it, and Wilson does so too. "I had always um, liked the idea, but never got to. Three messy marriages and whatnot." He pauses and then smiles. "Why do you ask?"

House grins at him, all teeth, and pulls him into a kiss. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, trust me," he says as he opens the door. "I'll worry about it."

"Chag Pesach sameach!" Cuddy says, pulling Wilson into a hug, doing the same with House.

"Chag Pesach sameach," he echoes, returning the hug, smiling.

He walks in to see Cuddy's family, faces he doesn't know, along with Lucas and Taub. He greets them, talks animatedly, and he bites his tongue on most off-color jokes. This is a tradition he has to uphold, and be nice about it. Sure, as they kvetch and talk animatedly about the food, he finds himself more in place.

When everyone is getting ready to leave, Lucas comes to House, looking at him carefully.

"Hey," Lucas says. "Sorry for, you know, doing that whole thing when you got the condo Cuddy wanted with Wilson. I never actually apologized for that."

He shrugs. "It's no big deal."

"Well, yeah, it was," he says. "Anyway. That's not why I wanted to talk to you."

House tilts his head. "What is it?"

"I, uh." He clears his throat. "I want to convert. I've been planning to propose to Lisa, but, you know, I know interfaith marriages are a thing but I just feel like—"

"Like it fits you?" he finishes for him.

Lucas looks up at him. "Yeah. I guess so. Yeah."

"Well, you can ask around," he says. "You can go to her synagogue or to the other one, the one I converted at— either way, it'll work out. Ask the rabbi about classes. And I'm sure Cuddy will be happy to hear your interest in her culture."

Lucas smiles at him. "Thank you, House." He pauses. "Did you start converting after you started to date Wilson, or—?"

"No," he says. "We started dating after. During Shabbat evening. I just felt like kissing him, so I did." He shrugs. "Many people start converting after they start dating someone Jewish, though. Some people worry that they're like, only doing it for them or whatever, but if it feels right for you, it feels right for you."

"Of course." Lucas hugs him. "Thank you. Chag Pesach sameach, House."

Lucas butchers the pronunciation a little, but it's okay. "Chag Pesach sameach, Lucas."

* * *

House, afterward, only remembers bits and pieces of his wedding. Cuddy, Lucas and Taub helping hold up the chuppah, made out of his very first tallit; House resisting the urge to make a joke about Taub on his tiptoes holding up the chuppah afterward. Rabbi Seth had commissioned them an ornate and beautiful ketubah as soon as House had told him they were dating, a long time before engagement even became a talk with them— _I just knew you two would end up married!_ he had said, beaming, as they signed it. Wilson giving him the ring, a simple thing, the very same he had fake proposed to him a few years ago. Him and Wilson breaking the glass together, ignoring the strike of pain that comes from raising his right leg. Everyone saying _mazel tov!_. Chase, Thirteen and Foreman looking confused by all these customs, but happy for them nonetheless.

The time afterward is far more calm.

He curls into bed with Wilson.

"We're married," he mumbles. " _Jewish_ married."

"We sure are," Wilson agrees, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "Does your leg hurt?"

"Hm," he says. "A bit." A pause. "You're doing a lot of husbandly caretaking right now. Am I the, uh, the _house_ wife?"

Wilson rolls his eyes. "Horrible pun, Greg," he says as he hands him his medication, along with a glass of water.

He takes it gladly. "I think it was a pretty good pun."

"Wasn't," he says as he undresses, gets into bed right beside him. "I'm glad it came to this, House."

"Yeah. Me too." The little speech he gave almost slips his mind, how he felt unabashedly cheesy and decided to talk about how if he hadn't converted, they'd probably still be running circles around each other, refusing to acknowledge their feelings. He'll be embarrassed about it tomorrow, but for now, he's just happy that everyone knows he's in love. "I'm glad I was brave, that Shabbat evening."

"I'm sure you are," he says. "I'd like to think we would've been brave another time, if you weren't, though."

"Who knows?" he says, sleepily, grabbing onto him. "Who knows, James?"

"Certainly not us," Wilson says, rubbing his shoulder, smiling at him in a way nothing short of loving. "In another universe we know, though." He hums. "Let's sleep, maybe."

"Yeah," House says. "We should sleep."

They already had the children talk, after they left Cuddy's Seder, a few months ago. He remembers being embarrassed, expecting Wilson to almost laugh at the idea of him wanting to have kids. But he's always been fond of them, little humans, not quite capable of _functioning_ yet. Sometimes they're sensory hell, but they're cute.

Reconstructionist circles accept patrilineal Jewish people as Jewish by birth, but House would still like to get a Jewish surrogate. He thinks about raising a kid, with Wilson, giving them the Jewish childhood he didn't get to have, being displaced into a Christian upbringing.

As he falls asleep with Wilson's arms wrapped around him, he can only think that he is glad he managed to find his way back to Judaism.


End file.
